


i fear no fate (for you are my fate)

by JHSC



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHSC/pseuds/JHSC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s Assistant Director Maria Hill, and she has to keep it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i fear no fate (for you are my fate)

Maria’s never been afraid of Clint before.

Afraid _for_ him, yes. When he’s out on a dangerous mission, when he’s breathing through a respirator in the med bay, when he’s waking up from night terrors at three in the morning convinced that he’s twelve years old again.

She’s been afraid of what he represents, maybe. Commitment has never been Maria’s strong suit, and putting her heart in someone else’s hands has rarely gone well for her. So far, Clint has held it safely, tenderly, like he can’t believe it’s his to keep, like he knows how fragile it is and he’ll do anything within his power to protect it.

But afraid _of_ him? Of the power of his mind, his strength, his aim?

Never - until he pulls a gun on her in an underground base about to crumble on top of her.

Fury says Barton has turned, and they have the Tesseract. But when Clint shoots at her - and misses - she instantly knows that whatever he’s doing, he’s doing against his will, and that the mysterious man he’s with has some sort of control over him.

The fear flares for an instant, and she dives for cover even as she returns fire. It’s then that she feels it tighten in her chest. Even then, she’s not sure it’s fear of Clint. It’s fear of herself, and what she has to do in order to stop him. 

*

When she crawls out of the rubble and reconnects with Coulson and Fury, Fury tells them what happened down at the lab. How Loki had appeared through the doorway to the other end of space, only to make threats and cause mayhem. How he’d used the spear to blast lightning in one moment, and apparently taken over the minds of Selvig and Barton in another. 

They know Barton is loyal. They also know Barton is clever. What they don’t know is how much free will he has left - is shooting Fury in the vest and missing Maria entirely the limit of what he can do under Loki’s control? When it comes down to the wire, is he going to be able to break free, or will he be forced to obey, no matter the consequences?

*

She pushes the fear aside and gets to work. She dispatches recovery crews to the rubble that was once Pegasus and calls ahead to the Helicarrier. Barton’s in the wind, but he’ll know that mobilizing all of SHIELD and converging on the carrier will be their next step. They need to stay ahead of him.

*

After capturing Loki, they don’t have much time to investigate the iridium theft at Stuttgart. The agents on the ground report two security guards killed instantly from an arrow to the spinal column. They wouldn’t have suffered. She makes a note of it, and moves on.

*

The explosion of the Helicarrier’s engine isn’t a surprise; it’s the most vulnerable part of the ship. The attack on the bridge isn’t a surprise, nor is the USB arrow (because Clint loves his USB arrow) nor is the virus that knocks out their systems.

What does surprise her is the single grenade. How easy it is to subdue the too-few mercenaries attacking them. She expects arrows to rain down on them with stunning accuracy, but after the initial wave, there’s nothing. 

Her head is ringing from where she cracked it on the floor, but she can’t help but wonder if this part of the plan is Loki’s at all - or if it’s Barton’s.

*

Coulson dies.

Loki escapes.

Maria allows herself a long moment to take it all in, and then she shuts it down. She’ll process the loss of her friend later, if there is a later. For now, she takes control of the bridge, organizes the medics and the transport of the injured down to the med bay, assigns new agents to empty stations.

When she’s done, she can’t stop herself from going down to the brig.

Natasha is sitting on the floor outside the first cell, stoically letting a medic put a cortisone injection into her ankle. There’s an IV in her arm and a bag of saline hanging from the doorknob above her head. Maria sinks down next to her and watches in silence as the medic wraps the ankle, first in an ace bandage, then two ice packs. “Leave those on as long as you can,” the medic instructs, standing. “When things calm down, I’ll want to get an x-ray of it.”

Natasha nods, and waits until the medic leaves before she says, “I think he’s back to himself.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Maria says, the familiar joke falling flat. “How do you know?”

“We fought. I hit him really hard on the head. Then he said my name.”

Maria’s too tired to be jealous. “Then what happened?”

A hint of Natasha’s wry grin sneaks out. “I hit him again.”

Maria snorts. Natasha and Clint’s relationship is built on a solid foundation of childish taunts, sibling violence and deep devotion. She’s spent hours sitting between them on couches and in cockpits and at tables as they threw insults and popcorn at each other. She’s spent hours sitting at their bedsides as they whispered, “Everything’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

Being in a relationship with Clint Barton means accepting that someone else loves him just as much as she does - and being stupidly grateful for it.

Natasha bumps shoulders with her in silent support; Natasha is happiest when she’s taking care of someone else. 

“How is he?” Fury asks, coming down the hall. 

“Unconscious and sedated. They’ve got him on IV fluids for now,” Natasha says, all business. “They expect he’ll wake up about twenty minutes after we take him off it.”

“Do it,” Fury says. “If he’s still mind-controlled, put him back under and we’ll worry about fixing him when this is all over.”

Relief washes through Maria, and she nearly staggers from it. SHIELD cares about its agents, and so long as Clint isn’t actively attacking them, he’s safe. For the moment.

“If he’s back with us,” Fury continues, “Perform psychological first aid and see what you can find out about Loki’s post-escape plans. We’re still alive, which means he’s not through with us.”

“Yes, sir,” Natasha says. She looks as relieved as Maria feels.

“Hill, with me. Time to talk some sense into Stark and Rogers.”

He holds out a hand and, when she reaches up and takes it, he pulls her to her feet. It’s as demonstrative as he’ll let himself be in a hallway full of agents in crisis mode. He lets go, turns to check Natasha’s IV line and fuss with the saline bag for a moment, and then he’s striding down the hall. Maria catches Nat’s eyes for a moment, their shared glance saying everything they need to, and then she’s down the hall after her boss.

She trusts Natasha to keep Clint safe. She can breathe, for now.

*

When she returns to her console, she pulls up the surveillance feed for Barton’s cell, and keeps it open in a corner of her screen. She doesn’t let it distract her, but it’s there.

*

Aliens attack New York. A bogey takes off, headed for New York with a missile. Stark flies into a wormhole.

Maria watches from the sidelines.

*

It’s not until they bring in a shift of fresh agents from the New York base to take over operations that Maria catches a break. She catches five hours of rest in a random bunk. She dreams of the tunnel under Pegasus, of aiming at Barton’s head, only this time she doesn’t miss and the car he’s driving careens out of control and flips, because he’s no longer alive to steer it. 

She wakes up retching.

Then she’s back on the bridge, coordinating cleanup.

*

It’s two days before Fury sends her to debrief the Avengers at Stark Tower. Stark gives her flippant, often one-word answers to her questions for ten minutes before walking out of the room mid-sentence. Rogers gives her more consideration. He asks when Coulson’s memorial will be. “I don’t know,” she says. He nods.

Banner is nowhere to be found.

She finds Natasha in a medical suite, sharing a room with Barton. There’s an air cast on her weak ankle and stitches on her forehead, but she looks better than she did after the fight on the helicarrier. She’s had time to rest and recover, secure in the knowledge that her people are safe.

Barton is asleep. Unlike the rest of the Avengers, he still has an IV, and there’s a pulse oximeter on his right index finger. Both of his wrists have braces. There are stitches and steri-strips along both arms and his shoulders, like he had been thrown through glass, and his right foot is booted. The left side of his forehead is purple.

All she wants to do is crawl into bed with him and stay there. But Clint’s bruised and torn and fractured, from his multiple concussions to his broken toes, and he shouldn’t have to put up with cramped and crowded bedspace. 

And she can’t, because she’s Assistant Director Maria Hill, and she has to keep it together. 

Maria goes to Natasha first, resting her hip on the side of the bed. “How are you doing?”

“You know I debriefed already with Nick,” she responds. Of course she has. Natasha is like a daughter to Fury, and he is more than happy to exercise all his protective impulses on her when the need arises.

Maria nods. Fury often treats her the same way.

They sit there quietly for a moment. Then Natasha says, “I think I managed to impress Captain America.”

“Did you impress him or did you terrify him?”

Natasha lifts a shoulder in a silent shrug. “I don’t think there’s much of a difference when it comes to Steve.”

“No, I don’t think there is.”

Another quiet moment as Natasha reaches for the water glass on the side table and takes a drink. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“I already did,” Maria replies.

“I don’t mean Steve,” Natasha says. She nods at Clint. “You need to talk to him.”

“I will when he wakes up.”

“Okay,” Natasha agrees. Then she says, “He’s awake.”

Maria turns, and Natasha’s right - Clint’s eyes are open, and he’s staring at her. 

In fear.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she doesn’t move until Natasha’s hand lands between her shoulder blades. It rests there for a moment, then gently pushes her forward. 

Natasha stands, and heads towards the door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes with sandwiches.”

“Nat,” Clint whispers.

“Twenty minutes, Barton,” Natasha replies evenly, and then she’s gone, and they’re alone.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Clint says, his voice rough, and Maria feels a sliver of ice shoot through her heart. She stops moving halfway to the bed, stranded in the middle of the floor.

“Why not?” she asks evenly. Holding it together. She’s Assistant Director Maria Hill. She can endure a breakup in a hospital room.

“I shot at you,” Clint says, finally, as if that explains everything. It explains nothing.

She blinks. “You missed.”

“But I shot at you,” he insists, voice growing stronger. “How can you…? Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of you?” She sees him nod. “Should I be?”

He breaks eye contact, then, and stares at her feet instead. All of his emotions are on display; all of his filters are gone. All he is is pain, and fear, and regret. “I did a lot of bad things. Killed a lot of people. Nearly killed you.”

“I wouldn’t say “nearly killed,”” she responds. “Yes, you shot at me. But you missed, Barton. Several times.”

He looks back up at her. “Then why the face?”

She looks at him, confused. “What face?”

“You’re scared.”

She swallows, because she knows that with Clint, she has no choice - no choice at all - other than to be honest. He brings that out of her. She can’t hate him for it. “I wasn’t under mind control,” she admits. “And I knew you weren’t going to kill me. I still tried to kill you back.”

He smiles grimly. “Good.”

She nods. “I tried to kill you. I know that’s what I was supposed to do. But all I can…” She looks away. 

“Hon?”

“When I close my eyes, I’m shooting at you again, except in my mind I don’t miss.” She swallows. “I know we have a dangerous job, and that we could die at any time. Like Coulson did. But if you die because I killed you…”

She raises her hands, and then drops them again. She can’t look at him. “That’s why I’m scared.”

He raises his hand, the one with the IV and the pulse meter on it, and gestures her forward. “C’mere.”

She shakes her head. While she’s over here, he’s safe from her. She can’t get too close.

“Honey, please come here,” he rasps.

A hand in the middle of her back gently pushes her forward. Natasha is light on her feet, even hobbling on an air cast, and she doesn’t make a sound as she leads Maria to Clint’s side. Clint shuffles over a bit on the bed, and she balks. “No, come on, you guys fought a battle two days ago.”

“And you had to watch,” Natasha says softly.

Clint shifts onto his side even as he’s pulling her to lie down. She pulls her legs up onto the bed and he spoons up behind her, his arm around her waist and his hand in hers. Natasha sits on the chair in front of them and leans forward to rest her hand on top of theirs.

“Assistant Director Maria Hill,” Clint whispers into her hair. He calls her that when he’s proud of her, when he’s frustrated with her, when he wants her to stop and _listen_. “I love you.”

Her breath hitches, and Natasha says, “Everything’s okay. You’re safe. We’re here. You’re gonna be okay.”

She breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> I carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
> my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
> i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done  
> by only me is your doing,my darling)  
> i fear  
> no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
> no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
> and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
> and whatever a sun will always sing is you  
> here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
> (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
> and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
> higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
> and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
> i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
> 
> \-- ee cummings


End file.
